Movie review: Starting Out in the Evening

The writer: blocked and unblocked.

by John P. Meyer

Starting out in Starting Out in the Evening, Heather (Lauren Ambrose) has been left alone in the study of retired professor and frustrated novelist Leonard Schiller while he's off in the living room searching for a copy of one of his out-of-print novels. Leonard (Frank Langella, looking old, weary and rumpled) has offered to lend her the book as a sort of consolation prize: he's declined the young, attractive, red-haired graduate student's request to conduct a series of interviews in support of her masters thesis, which will center on Schiller's canon of works. Using as an excuse the distraction from his writing that such a regimen would entail - and throwing in his fragile health for good measure - Schiller has done his best to let her down gracefully.

Heather takes the opportunity to wander through the nooks and crannies of the very private workspace, soaking up the writer's ambiance. She leafs through a small packet of photographs and pauses at one depicting Leonard as a young man, smiling back at the camera, daring the world to stop him now. Treating it as a talisman, she pockets the photo; Heather's goal is to insinuate herself into Schiller's life, and she's not giving up yet.

Enter Leonard's daughter, Ariel (Lili Taylor), who's let herself into the apartment only to discover Heather in her father's study. As the young women introduce themselves the viewer is left to contemplate their similarities and differences, noting at first how close in age they appear to be, then double-taking a bit to allow for further distinctions (subtle marks of encroaching middle age in the countenance of Ariel), finally placing them on the level of older/younger sister or (with a minimal stretch) mom and daughter. Which would make Heather the chronological equivalent of Schiller's granddaughter.

And so it comes as something of a shock when, in the process of accepting the book from the old professor a few minutes later, Heather pointedly caresses his hand. (Just a little teaser to leave you with, Leonard old chap: a taste of the sort of thing that might be in store for you if you'd allow this pixie-ish fresh-faced young woman to conduct those interviews...)

Regardless of his feigned disinterest and refusal to even look at the girl directly, Leonard is clearly enthralled. When Heather leaves a card behind with her number on it - suggesting that "maybe the best thing for your health would be to have a fascinating young woman in your life" - no one can doubt that it will be put to the intended use. Every aging writer/professor needs a whiff of nubile young womanhood to stir up his creative juices once in a while, and all men eventually become old men harboring delusional dreams - or die somewhere along the way.

The film's narrative middle section divides its time between the developing relationship (professional and - tentatively - personal) between Leonard and Heather and a parallel story line involving Ariel and her off/on again romance with Casey (Adrian Lester), an egocentric artist who - counter to Ariel's biological clock-ticking concerns - does not want to have children. Casey seems like a nice enough fellow (if a bit superficial), and Ariel loves him; it's just that he's unwilling to compromise on the child-conceiving issue - or, it develops, any others.

When her father begins spending time with Heather (taking her to art and literary events; dining out with her under the guise of research) Ariel suspicions it involves more than scholarly interaction. She finds herself with not only her own relationship issues to work through, but harboring concerns about her Dad's youth-oriented activities. It's feasible she could even be a bit jealous of the time the old man's devoting to his student protégé. Ariel broaches the subject with him, couching her concern in terms of the interruption to his writing routine; he expresses the opinion that "a little deviation may be exactly what I need." True enough.

Leonard tries to remain impeccably professional in his dealings with Heather, though in his heart of hearts he would prefer to drop such pretense and let his freaky old-guy-in-love flag fly. For her part, Heather introduces increasingly less equivocal romantic overtures into the mix: taking his arm at social events; kissing him good night (on the cheek, but only because - thrilled and simultaneously horrified - he turns slightly away). Things come to a head late one evening after a cocktail party when Heather accepts Leonard's offer to bunk at his place - in the guest room, of course. On some pretense or other she lures him onto the bed and they kiss for real; still wearing his tie and white starched shirt, he makes mesmeric hand passes over her lithe, somnolent body, demonstrating the intimate art of not-touching. (It's a touching scene.)

This script could easily have devolved into a noirish morality play with Heather portraying the seductive manipulator out for her own interests at the expense of the gullible, lonely old man. But - and congratulations are due - screenwriters Fred Parnes and Andrew Wagner (working from a novel by Brian Morton) serve up something closer to reality, which involves a more complex set of motivations. Certainly Heather is playing Leonard to get at the insights she needs for her thesis (and, it develops, her feature article for a literary mag); nevertheless, she develops a genuine affection for the sad, lonely author of a book that profoundly affected her young life. She obviously wishes him no ill. Yes, she underestimates the effect her manipulations will have on Leonard (after all, that which is once conceded is oft and evermore desired), but this results from a youthful misapprehension of the intensity of love reintroduced into a life resigned to its absence - not from any sort of malice.

The previously unsympathetic character of Casey makes a redemptive transition to fully-realized personhood late in the film, thanks to an incident involving Leonard's infirmity. Casey's motivation for helping Leonard through an embarrassing personal crisis: simple humanistic concern, one flawed individual looking out for another. We need more of this - in art and in life.

Bookending the drama are extended silent sequences of Leonard brooding in front of his typewriter, awaiting his muse. And then typing. (It's what writers do.)

WHAT ABOUT TEACHING?: "What's an English major going to do in the real world? Nothing." - Victor (Michael Cumpsty), Ariel's soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, at her birthday party.

COULD IT BE EGO?: "There's something about collaboration that brings out the worst in writers." - Leonard to Heather

COMPLETIONIST SENTIMENT: "I'm running out of time - I have to finish." - Leonard to Ariel